


Black Triskelion

by kimchisan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Blue Tiger AU, Character Death, Creeper Peter Hale, Gun Violence, Inappropriate touching, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Minor Character Death, Movie Retelling, NO rape, Organized Crime, Panic Attacks, People die in this fic, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Stabbing, Tattoos, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimchisan/pseuds/kimchisan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been Stiles idea. A nice trip with his dad. If he had known what would happen, he never would've gone on the trip. </p><p>Stiles and the Sheriff get caught up in an incident between two rival crime syndicates with unfortunate consequences for the Sheriff. </p><p>Stiles is set on a path of revenge and the only clue he has is a tattoo.</p><p>Meanwhile the crime syndicates go to war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've started writing this fic over a year ago. I'm not really happy with it anymore but I want to finish it for all the people who are still interested in knowing how it ends. 
> 
> It was my first Teen Wolf fanfic. I edited the first 3 chapters but I changed nothing major. So you don't need to re-read it. I apologize for the different lengths of the chapters. 
> 
> I don't have a beta. 
> 
> PLEASE READ THE TAGS.  
> I do not intend to make anyone feel bad. If you think there needs to be an addition to the tags please tell me.
> 
> My original inspiration was the awesome fic ["No Way Out"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/661980/chapters/1207750/) by trilliath. Obviously this story isn't half as good as that one. You should read it!
> 
> Also this is a close retelling of an early 90's action movie. Blue Tiger is the name. I doubt anyone knows it. I changed the gender of the main character and a few other things to make it fit.
> 
> I try to update once a week. I can't promise though because I'm a busy student.

Silence lies over the city in the night. A hundred thousand lights bloom in the dark, spreading over the water in the bay. From the other side of the harbor darkness spreads. The handful of older factories and rundown warehouses on this side were mostly abandoned at this time of the night. A few street lights dot these back alleys and the smell of rust and dead fish permeates the air. This relative stillness was suddenly disrupted by a loud crash. 

Someone comes running out of an old warehouse. The young man barrels through an alley, with his back to the bay, away from the glittering waters towards where he parked his car. Three people are in pursuit of him. He can hear their heavy footsteps. His sweaty, curly hair is smeared with blood, coming from a wound over his left brow. He runs left and right, dashes through a wooden fence and turns his head ever so often to see if he is still being followed. When he takes a turn to the left, he is jumped from the side and tackled to the ground. His head hits the asphalt of the street with a loud thud and he loses his consciousness.

When he comes to, he is held up by two muscled guys. Through heavy lidded eyes he can see a woman standing in front of him. Her long sandy colored hair falls into his face while she takes his chin into her hand, digging her nails into his skin. He tries to wrestle himself out of her hold but it is in vain. 

“Well, who would've thought that one of you rats gets caught! Did you think your little scouting missions go unnoticed around here? What are your bosses thinking?” He doesn't talk and her grip becomes even more painful. His head hurt so much he could barely concentrate on what was going on.  
“You won't tell?” She shakes his head again. “Unfortunately this won't do. At all. We'll have to find another use for you then.” She smirks at him with a cold glint in her eyes. He shivers.

She takes something from a leg holster. It's a hunting knife. The metal shimmers underneath the white street light. Before he can even progress what happens next, the knife slices through his guts. A pained grunt escapes him as she twists the knife and rips it out again. Angling the blade and repeats the gesture. Once, twice, thrice. Her subordinates let go of him and he sinks to the floor on his knees. He topples over and bleeds out. It isn't even that painful anymore. His blue eyes grow cold.

She turns away from him and goes in the direction of a black SUV parked in a distance. Midway between the body and the car, she orders her accomplices to plant the body somewhere it will be easily found. She then proceeds to get into the car and drives off.

\-------

Stiles and his father decide to go on a road trip. It's their final trip together while Stiles is still living with his father. It had taken him some time to convince the Sheriff to take time off and spent it with his son before said son goes off to college. His acceptance letter had arrived a few weeks before and his scholarship had been approved as well. They pack their bags and leave Beacon Hills in the jeep on a beautiful summer morning. 

Stiles had taken the first shift of driving on the highway and changed seats with his dad around lunch time. They didn't really plan where they were going. The landscape changed around them but Stiles barely noticed. He was so focused on telling his father about all the things he planned on doing in his new college town. 

The more they talked and joked he could see his father relax more and more. This trip had been long overdue, he thought. After the death of his wife the Sheriff had rarely felt like taking a leave from work to go on a vacation. That he was doing so now, made Stiles very happy. He felt like he could leave his father on his own now. His heart grew lighter at the thought. 

They'd been driving for quite some time. The sun had just set and Stiles woke from a short nap. They had left the countryside and entered a more urban area and decided to take a break and find a hotel.

The Sheriff then noticed the low fuel and pulled over at a gas station. While he takes care of the car, Stiles goes into the shop. He just needed some candy to pick himself up. After standing in front of the candy shelf for what felt like hours he chose Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. While he was deciding which candy would serve his needs best his father had stepped into the shop as well. He took his time and flipped through some magazines. They didn't need to be somewhere. They had time.

There was a woman at the cash desk. She looked quite stunning with her long wavy hair but her personality soon proved to be not as delightful judging from her behavior.   
She had argued with the cashier when Stiles had entered the shop but left before the Sheriff came inside. Now she was back with two male “friends” and started to argue again with the cashier.   
Stiles' dad put away the magazine and went over to them and tried to calm the situation. Stiles was still standing in the candy aisle but looked up at his father when he went to mediate between the two parties. 

Stiles really wanted to go over and help his father but thought the better off it. They've had enough arguments about Stiles' behavior and curiosity. He didn't want to ruin the good mood he and his father were sharing at the moment. 

Something felt off about the people though, but he couldn't think much more on the subject as someone entered the shop. 

The first thing that took Stiles by surprise was the fact that the guy was wearing a black wolf mask. A small voice inside his head hoped that the situation was a terrible joke. It couldn't be, could it? A robbery? The guy wore a white wife beater and some old jeans? 

Why was Stiles thinking about this? 

More important would be the fact that he had a freaking gun in his hand. Stiles wanted to call out a warning to the ongoing argument at the cash desk but his throat closed up. He could only stare wide eyed at the events unfolding before him then. 

The stranger started shooting. Stiles saw the blood spraying from a man's back. The Sheriff instinctively tried to reach for his gun but it obviously wasn't there. The masked man was fast. He shot the other “friend” of the woman in the chest and rounded towards the woman. The Sheriff intended to help her. After the first shot had rung through the shop Stiles had jumped behind the shelf.

Apparently one of the men had a gun with him which must have fallen to the ground. The woman tried to grab the gun while the Sheriff wanted to drag her behind one of the shelves for safety. They struggled. 

The attacker shot at her two times then. 

She let out a pained sound and then Stiles heard something which will haunt him probably until his dying day. 

He heard a grunt. It sounded dangerously like his father. 

Stiles peeked around the shelf and saw his father lying on the ground. The woman lay a few feet away from him. Stiles scrambled from his hiding place over to his father. He held him in his arms.   
“Dad! Oh my god!”  
There was blood everywhere. A shot to the chest. He could see his father drown in his own blood. “Someone call 911! Please! Do something!” he screamed. His eyes stung and tears were falling from his eyes... 

Then he heard the mechanical sound of the sliding door opening. He looked up. Apparently the shooter had lost interest in the proceedings and was leaving the shop. Stiles could only see the back of the man. And the sight burned itself into his mind. 

The white wifebeater sprayed with the red blood and on the skin a tattoo. Stiles never ending fascination with mythology supplied him with the name for it. The sign he saw was a black triskelion.

\---------

Stiles was led to a desk in a police station. His father's blood was still on his shirt, his hands and nails. The officer writes something, Stiles would never have thought to see written down, at least not in connection to his father.

Name of the Deceased: Stilinski, John.   
Age: 49 

The officer then proceeds to ask Stiles questions about the shooter and what had happened in the shop. A few desks over sat the cashier. 

Stiles didn't say anything. He couldn't. He felt so empty. His fingers began to tremble and his body started to shiver. His face was so pale and his eyes were reddened.

He looked the officer in the eyes and says: “I think... I need to see my father! Where is he?” The officer looks at him perplexed. Stiles jumps out of the chair. “Where is he?!” he screams, wildly gesturing.

He tries to leave but the officer calls backup and they try to stop him. He wrenches himself free only to succumb to the dizziness in his head. He wished he could throw up. 'Dad', he thought. 'No, please, no..'  
Stiles slumped to the ground fighting for breath as the panic attack hits him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to talk to me about the story on my [tumblr](http://kimchisan.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles felt empty. He didn't want to get up. Didn't want to see how his father's body is lowered into the ground. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The clothes for the funeral were on his desk chair. Melissa had put them there. He didn't know how long he had lain there but when Scott entered the room he got up. They didn't talk. Scott proved to have the amazing foresight, that Stiles, contrary to his usual self wasn't into talking at the moment. He took the clothes from the chair, gave them to Stiles and gestured that he would wait for him downstairs.

They drove to the cemetery and walked the distance to the place his father's grave would be in. It was next to his mother's plot. There were rows of chairs, Stiles took his place in the front row. Scott didn't leave his side. It didn't take long before more and more people arrived. 

Stiles hated the cloying smell of the flowers. It stuck to the roof of his mouth and refused to leave. He only half-listened to the things that were said about his father. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. But the evidence was right in front of him. His father was dead. Gone. Will never ever hold him again. He wanted to cry but felt like he couldn't. I was his fault and his punishment for that was not to be allowed to cry at all.   
One and a half weeks ago he and his father went on that trip.   
That stupid, fuckin' trip! Stiles' gut cramped at the thought that it had been his idea. Even the weather had to remind him of the day his father died in being sunny and warm, making things bright and happy. Why couldn't it be more like in the movies, rain and cloudy skies. It wouldn't clash so brutally with the way he felt at the moment. 

For a few seconds his breathing stopped when they lowered the casket into the earth. He barely noticed the warmth of Scott's hand grabbing his own, squeezing it. Still no tears. 

He really didn't want to talk to the other people but there was no escape. He had to hear it all, the “I'm so sorry's, my condolences' and stay strong's”. He wanted to throw up. Somewhere in his mind he knew that the people saying those words just didn't know any other way to show their support but still, their words sounded so hollow to him.

When Stiles entered his house, the door opening wide to the dark hallway, something inside him snapped. It was real! Everything was! He was truly alone. He couldn't look at his father's possessions. They haunted him in every room. He frantically started to grab the most prominent things of his father's and piled them in the living room. Pictures, his wristwatch, badge, shoes were thrown onto the heap. Stiles felt the sweat building on his skin. After he felt satisfied he grabbed an old bottle of rubbing alcohol from the closet and poured it all over the pile. He lit a match. Just then Scott entered the room, in his hands a bag full of groceries. It ended up on the ground spilling all its contents while he leaped towards Stiles.

\- - - - - 

The bustling outside of the hospital room drove her up the walls. Kate Argent lay on her bed and switched through the channels of her Tv. She got increasingly bored. Staying in bed, resting, proved to be a real challenge. 

It had been a lucky thing, that of the two shots fired at her only one hit the mark. That it would go right through her and into the guy who tried to interfere with the situation, killing him in the process, was unfortunate. Still she thought it served him right. Why had the old man tried to meddle in her affairs in the first place? It seems cops even off-duty couldn't leave things alone. 

A knock on the door grabbed her attention. Her father entered the room followed by his assistant. “Kate, how are you today?” “Not any different than two days ago! This place bores me out of my mind! What brings you here today? Did you find the bastard who tried to kill me?” She looked at her father with piercing eyes. 

“Even a stay in hospital can't dull your senses. Yes, that's exactly why I'm here.” He gestures to his assistant who opens the black leather briefcase Kate hadn't noticed at first. He takes a photo out and gives it to her father who in turn shows it to her. She could see two people on it. A young muscular man and a slightly older suave looking man. “We believe it was the guy on the right side. Derek Hale. He is one of Carlyle's men. Seems like one of the rats you gutted last month was his best friend.”

“Aww. A loyal friend! I'm a sucker for those dogs. They're such fun to break! I hope you know what I want now!” Gerard smirked at her, nodding. 

“Ruff him up a bit, bring him to me and then I'll look into his goddamn eyes as he did with me and kill him slowly. Maybe I should use the knife I used on his friend? That would be so sweet.” She smiled devilishly delighted at the picture in her mind.

 

\- - - - - - - -

It didn't take long for the Argents to send their gangs out into the streets. A guy who bore a slight similarity to Derek was attacked and shot in the back. The equilibrium between the Argents and the Carlyles started to unravel. 

Derek had been told by Peter that the boss wanted to see them. He could guess what Carlyle wanted from him. His obvious failure to kill off Kate Argent being the most probable reason. A wonder the guy had taken so long to call for him.

Derek was leaning against the wall across from Carlyle's office, arms crossed and in thought. Peter on the other hand was almost lying on the few chairs next to the door. If anyone else had seen his uncle they'd probably think of him as a very calm and collected man. But Derek knew better. There was a certain stiffness in his uncle's movements and that he had to flex his left little finger all the time was a telltale sign for his uncle being nervous. 

The Hale family owed the Carlyles a great debt after the demise of most of the family in a house fire. The police investigation concluded it had been arson. The party responsible had never been caught. Peter, Derek's sister Laura and Derek were the only living Hales from that time on. Without the generosity of the Carlyles and their protection their lives would have ended up in misery.   
To ensure the connection Carlyle had thought it would be the best course of action to merge the families and Laura had been wed to Carlyle's oldest son.   
The inheritance, she would receive at 18, had been in all likelihood come into play as well, Derek thought.

After 10 minutes waiting they were asked to step in. Derek hadn't come in here for quite some time. Last time he saw Charles Carlyle they had been in a restaurant talking about their mutual interest in killing off Kate Argent. It hadn't been a surprise to Derek when Carlyle told him that the woman seriously interfered with his drug business. She watched the harbor area like hawk. 

That's why Isaac had been there in the first place. Derek involuntarily shuddered when he thought about the mutilated body they had found underneath an underpass. That, had been a young man full of hopes and dreams. Derek clenched his fist at the memory. After this it hadn't taken long until Derek volunteered his services to Carlyle. 

The man in question looked at him from behind his huge mahogany desk. The windows behind him showed most of the city's skyline. Derek could actually see the Argent tower from here. 

“Charles what can we do for you?” Peter asked the surly looking man. Always the charmer.  
“Well, what do you think? Our trade is being compromised and thanks to the failure of your nephew here our people get attacked constantly!” the man snapped. 

Derek's and Carlyle's eyes crossed. “Don't look at me like that! You know you just had to do this one thing. How could you miss her?” “I didn't! I shot right at her and she sunk to the floor!” Derek replied angrily. “Well, you've done a shit job and now we're in this mess.” Peter grabbed Derek's arm before the anger made him do something they would both regret. 

“Charles, it's hardly his fault that the Argents are moving in on us.” he tried to interject. “Peter don't try to apologize for him. This mess makes things a lot harder on us. On top of that I lost my best spy!” 

“And I lost my best friend!” Derek said looking stubbornly to the side. “We can't change any of that now.” Peter said and looked at them both. “Let's just concentrate on how to handle the Argent problem from now on.” 

\- - - - - - 

Stiles frowned at the piece of paper on his table. He grabbed the black sharpie and began drawing. 

Scott had sent him to a mental clinic. It had taken Scott and Melissa some time to convince Stiles to stay there for a bit. He had only agreed because of their pleading looks. He had been staying there the past two days. The talks with the psychiatrist weren't making him feel better at all. 

Furthermore he was plagued by nightmares. He saw his father die over and over again. The red blood on the white shop tiles, the wolf mask and the triskelion were repeated in his mind. His eyes always honed in on the twirls of the tattoo bordering on insanity. 

The tattoo followed him everywhere. He started to draw it. Not just once, he filled papers with it. The never ending spirals numbing his mind and blocking out reality. He barely noticed Scott visiting him. He would draw it over and over until the paper ripped.   
His fingers were stained with black ink. The room was littered with his drawings.

He fell asleep only to be hit by another nightmare. 

This time though the dream changed for the first time. He didn't just look at the back of the guy, he also noticed the gun lying on the ground next to him. He could feel the heaviness of the metal when he took it. It felt so real. The lifeless body of his father in one hand and the gun in the other. He saw the man turn around outside the shop. The lights of the gas station reflecting dully on the mask. Stiles took aim at him, felt the recoil of the gun and startled awake.  
The sweat had barely cooled on his skin when he decided to leave the clinic.

He dressed and snuck out. For some time he just wandered the streets with no real purpose. Mulling over what the dream meant to him. The more he thought about it the more the dream felt right. Like there was a new path of action to take for him.   
While walking, he chanced upon a tattoo studio. He asked about the triskelion tattoo and the owner told him, albeit reluctantly, that he knew a retired tattoo artist who had specialized in that kind of tattoo. The artist lived near the town the Sheriff had died in. 

With his newly attained knowledge Stiles returned home. Nobody seemed to have noticed that he had disappeared from the clinic. He went into the house, ignored the living room, goes straight upstairs to his room and packs the necessaries into a duffle bag. It would take him hours to drive all the way to the town. He got into his jeep but didn't seem to be able to start the vehicle. His mind flashed back to when he had sat in here with his father. He swallows his feelings down and drives out of Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to talk to me about the story on my [tumblr](http://kimchisan.tumblr.com/).


	3. Chapter 3

He was right. It did take him some time to get to the place. Stiles listened to a radio talk show. Usually he would listen to music but he thought it might be better for him to concentrate on other people's problems than his own while he drove. Music would just give him the opportunity to think. The drive was uneventful and he only needed to stop once because he was hungry. 

At first he didn't want to take the route he and his dad had taken previously, but somehow his body had a mind of its own and he drove past the gas station.   
It hadn't been a good idea after all. After the place was out of sight he had to take the next exit and stop the jeep.

He saw his father's eyes looking up at him. The feel of his hand on Stiles' arm, trying to calm his son and the moment it went slack. Stiles bit his lip and curled his fingers around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white, head on top of them. His fingers were ice cold against his forehead.   
He took deep breaths and counted the intervals. He didn't know how long he was sitting there but after some time he managed to calm down enough to drive again. 

The hotel he had found on the internet was small and a bit shady but the price was tolerable. The room was ok. It had a double bed, a Tv and a desk. Enough to be a base of some sorts.  
He took a shower and looked up the address of the tattoo artist on his phone. It was in another part of the city but that was okay. The drive would take about 40 minutes considering the state of the traffic at the moment. As if he hadn't driven enough in one day!

He pushed his feelings of exhaustion aside and drove to the place. Even with a digital map it hadn't been easy to find the house. He started to doubt his map reading skills when he finally turned into the street. There were bungalow type houses and front lawns. It wasn't like he thought it would be. At all. In his head he had thought of a seedy apartment complex somewhere downtown. Not this sunshine and rainbows place. The lush greenery hurt his eyes. 

The house didn't look any different than the others in the street. It blended in perfectly. There were toys on the porch. Stiles checked if the name was correct. It was. He rang the bell underneath the brass-plate. 

Deaton, it read. 

It didn't take long and the door opened. A young black woman peered up at him.   
“Can I help you?” she asked slightly suspicious.  
“Hi! My name is Stiles Stilinski and I would like to talk to... Alan Deaton? Does he live here?”   
“ He does.” She opens the door a bit more and Stiles can see a nice and warm looking hall way.   
“That's my uncle. What do you want with him?”   
“I've talked to a tattoo artist back in my hometown and he told me I should talk to your uncle about this.” He showed her a slightly crumpled paper with his triskelion drawing.   
She visibly flinches, a sudden flash of fear creeping into her features.   
“You shouldn't be here!” She looked frantically left and right behind Stiles. Like she expected more people to suddenly jump out.   
“Please go!”she plead. “You will just upset him unnecessarily! Go away!”   
The last words were practically yelled at him and she threw the door closed before he could even say anything.   
He knocked on the door. “Please, Ms. Deaton! I really, really need that information!” But there was no reaction coming from the house. He let his head thump on the door, breathed in heavily and went back towards his car. 

The door opened then. 

A man was standing on the threshold. He had a drip on his left arm.   
“I think you wanted to talk to me, Mr. Stilinski.” The man sounded slightly out of breath.   
“Alan Deaton?” Stiles looked at him questioningly.   
He nodded.

Stiles was led into a small bedroom, the walls were full with photos of tattoos. He sat down on a chair next to the door. Deaton sat at his desk. Before they could talk, the young woman, Elaine, brought coffee for them. 

After she left, Deaton fixed his eyes on him. “So, what exactly brought you to my door?” “It's kind of a long, private story but...” Stiles showed him his drawing and continues: “ I'm searching for the person who has this tattoo on his back. I asked around and this guy in Beacon Hills told me you would know about this stuff.” 

“It's true these tattoos were my specialty. But I'm not sure if I'm allowed to help you.” Stiles wanted to argue but was stilled by an apologetic look on Deaton's face.   
“I can only guess why you'd want to find this person. But I can't tell you who he is because of the consequences. If I tell you outright who it is and where to find him my family would be in serious danger. I'm ill, god knows how long I still have and Elaine welcomed me here to live with her family. She has two sons. 6 and 8 and I'm not going to endanger them.” 

Stiles swallowed. He was torn between understanding this man's reasons and his own feelings for revenge. In the end the understanding won out. He couldn't force a terminally ill person to do what he wanted. His mother would turn around in her grave if he stooped so low.  
Deaton silently watched his struggle, as if he knew what was going on in Stiles' mind. 

“Is there something else you could tell me then?” Stiles sighed. “There must be something. Something that's not too dangerous to tell.” he looked pleadingly at the older man.

Deaton seemed to think about it. “Well, I could tell you the meaning behind that tattoo.” he held Stiles' drawing up. Stiles was momentarily distracted by the photographs on the wall next to him. Something caught his eye. He turned to Deaton “That would be great. Thank you.” Maybe it will help him, information was everything after all.  
“And I'd like to know about this one too.” He points at a small picture on the wall. It showed a red spiral like tattoo. 

Deaton inclines his head. “It's interesting that you point that one out. It's actually a set to the one you brought me here.” Stiles looked at him wide-eyed. Deaton smiled at him. “You have good eyes Mr. -” “Stiles! Please call me Stiles. Mr. Stilinski is my father.” interjected Stiles hastily. 

Was, Stiles. He's not here anymore...

“Your eyes are good, Stiles.” Deaton started, oblivious to Stiles sudden change in demeanor.   
“They belong together. The triskelion stands for 3 things: Birth, Life and Death. Those three concepts spin around each other and none of them can exist without the other.”   
“Does it have any other meanings? Or does it only represent the natural cycle of life and death?”   
“It's true, there is another meaning. 'You can't escape fate.' I think that's the underlying theme of this tattoo. Which brings us to the one you just discovered on my wall.” 

Stiles turned to look at it again and said:“It's a bit similar isn't it? The spirals on the triskelion look the same.” 

“That's what I wanted to point out to you. If you break the triskelion into three individual pieces you get three spirals and... this is my interpretation, the spirals always try to rectify the imbalance that was created by breaking the triskelion. I know that for some people this could even symbolize the search for justice against a presumed wrong.”  
“Revenge. Is that what you mean? It's a symbol for revenge?”  
“Well, in less eloquent terms, yes.” 

When Stiles left the house Deaton stood on the porch and waved him goodbye. Stiles got into the car drove back. When he returned to the hotel he had a shopping bag full of snacks with him. The moment he stepped over the threshold his phone ringed. He contemplated letting it go to voice mail but in the end he took the call. It was Scott.

“Hi, Scott! What can I do for you?”   
“Stiles! Where are you? I only found out today that you've left the clinic! When I went to your house you weren't there.”   
“I just needed some space, Scott.”   
“The psychiatrist said you should return to the clinic.”   
“I won't.” Stiles sighed. “At least not yet.”  
“But you'll come back? Did you really have to run away? Was it something I did? I really want to help you, Stiles. If I were in your shoes I wouldn't know what to do right now and you just vanished.”   
“Scott, I'm sorry to make you feel worried. I really am, but I need to do this and I'm sorry to be so blunt but I think you really don't know what I'm going through. You can imagine it, yes, but you'll never truly know.”   
“Ok. Ok, I really don't know how it feels but mom and I are worried about you. I don't know how much more of this you can take before you break. You've already tried to burn your house!”   
“Let me be the judge of how much I can take Scott and I didn't try to burn the house. How many times do I have to tell you?”   
“You could stay with us, you know. As long as it may take. You don't even need to go to the clinic if you don't like it there.” It's a last resort and Stiles knows it. He can feel Scott's desperation through the phone.  
“Scott, thank you, but no. You've done a lot for me and I'm grateful for that but this is good bye for now. Please don't go searching for me. I need this. I'll come back when I'm ready.”  
He hanged up. 

He settled on the bed with the snacks he had bought earlier. Stiles was in deep thought.   
What was he doing here? It all had been such a spontaneous thing. Coming here. He thought talking to Deaton would give him all the answers. But the guy hadn't been helpful at all. What should he even do with the tattoo information?   
He stretched on the bed, put the heels of his hands to his eyes. His mother was gone. His father now too. He felt so utterly lost.   
If he was honest with himself he knew that he would never possibly have a peace of mind as long as the one who killed his father walked the earth. But what should he do? Bring him to justice. But in what way? Kill him or get him arrested? His father would stick to the latter obviously. But Stiles felt like he really had to disagree here with his dad. He didn't feel like there was anything worth living for. 

So he made the final decision:  
That guy. That 'murderer' had to go. An eye for an eye, like they say. 

Sleep came over him while he was thinking on how to kill the wolf guy. Seriously that mask had been scary as fuck. When he woke the next morning he knew what he wanted to do. 

The surprise on Elaine's face was probably the best thing Stiles had seen all morning. She didn't argue with him like the day before and led him to Deaton's room.   
The man sat at his desk and looked up when he entered the room. “Stiles?” 

Stiles swallowed, a new resolve had been formed. Now was the time to test it.

“Would you... I mean if your health permits... and I'll pay of course.. but would you give me a tattoo?” 

Deaton looked surprised for a second but his face soon settled into calmness. “Well, If you are absolutely sure you want it. I don't see why not. I would love to do it. I'd do it for free even.” 

Stiles eyes widened considerably. “You would do it for free?” Stiles couldn't deny that that would help his finances quite a bit.   
“It's been long though. What kind of design do you want? Where should it be placed?”  
“I thought we could do something like this.” He took a paper out of his pocket. I wanted to combine those two.” He gestures with one hand at the red spiral tattoo on the wall and with the other to the triskelion picture he had put on the table.  
“The spiral and the triskelion?” Deaton's face stayed carefully blank. As if he suddenly knew what Stiles was all about. “Show me. How do you want to combine them?” 

Stiles took the offered pen out of Deaton's hand and sketched the design on a piece of paper. At first he drew the all too familiar swirls of the triskelion and then a spiral right in the middle of it so that the spirals of the triskelion contained the big spiral. 

“This is the design I had in mind.” Then he points at his chest, over his heart. “And here is where I want it.” The determination in his eyes was frightening. It's like the boy from yesterday has left the building and a man entered in his stead.   
Deaton asked Stiles to lie down on the bed. He took out his equipment. Stiles looked at him in surprise. 

“You don't use a machine?”   
“No, I do this by hand with these needles. Japanese style. Do you still want to do it?” Stiles nods. “Oh my god! That thing looks like an ice pick. Please, don't kill me!” Deaton chuckles.   
“If I do this by hand the colors are going to be much stronger. Well, we're only using black ink so it doesn't matter as much. But usually the colors are a lot prettier with this method.   
Stiles lay on the bed and Deaton got to work on his chest. It hurt. It really did. Stiles would have bled onto Deaton's sheets if he hadn't put a towel beneath Stiles beforehand.

Elaine only interrupted once because she was wondering what took them so long. She wanted them to stop but whatever look Deaton had on his face made her sigh and she let it go.  
It took a long time to finish the tattoo. Or at least it felt like it had been a long time. Stiles chest hurt and he felt a bit dizzy.   
Because it had been such a slow process he would probably remember every sting of the needle for the rest of his life. Exactly how he had wanted it. 

Deaton put some protective gauze on the tattoo and asked Stiles to come back if there is anything wrong. Before Stiles could leave he was stopped by Deaton who whispered in his ear. “I'll give you a name right now, it's not the one you seek but maybe if you're smart you'll figure it out. … Carlyle.” 

Stiles was mindblown. “You're really risking something here!”he hissed.  
“Let's just say I think I'll be safe enough. As long as you're staying smart.” he leveled a heavy gaze at Stiles.

Nevertheless he understood the meaning. This man trusted him. He didn't know how he earned it but he would never disappoint that kind of trust. It reminded him too much of his dad.   
He waved at Deaton and even Elaine came to say good bye when he left. 

He shouldn't move all too much in the next 24 hours or so. His body needed time to adjust to the stinging sensation over his heart.  
When Stiles returned it had become evening. He had bought another round of snacks on his way and sighed when he closed the room's door behind him. He stuck a piece of beef jerky in his mouth and began to strip off his clothes before falling on to the bed. He switched on the Tv and let it lull him to sleep. 

\- - - - - - - - -

A nice upscale restaurant. The people inside are oblivious to the dark car slowly driving past.   
They are in their own world. Laughing, being happy. It's Saturday and a nice night.   
It takes a few months to reserve a seat in the place. The light coming from the restaurant's huge panorama windows reflects on the car outside. 

The window of the car is opening. An assault rifle comes into view. 

The noise is deafening. The glass shatters and the people transform into a screaming bleeding mass. The car speeds down the street and is nowhere to be seen.

\- - - - - - - - - 

The next morning Stiles assesses his situation. Deaton had said “Carlyle”. He ate another package of beef jerky and drowned everything in coke. Who could it possibly be? After he had squinted at his phone screen for 2 hours he decided to visit the library. He couldn't do a proper research on that phone. Stiles regretted that he had left his laptop at home. 

The library wasn't crowded this early and Stiles was able to get a computer in a corner. He found a lot of information on the Carlyle family in the newspaper archives. They had their hands in everything. 

He read about the incident at the restaurant from the night before. It's assumed that a rival crime syndicate had done the deed. The Argents, he found out after some more digging were their biggest competitors for the entire area. So it probably had been them.   
When he looked at a picture of a woman named Kate Argent, everything clicked into place. The woman from the gas station! He hadn't even bothered to ask who she had been. So it had something to do with her as well.

So Deaton had given him a valuable clue about the connection from the Carlyles to the Argents. It had been a hit on Kate Argent and his father got in between. That must be it. Deaton probably had worked for the Carlyles at one time. 

When he finally stopped researching it was late afternoon and he hadn't even noticed that he hadn't eaten the whole time, his stomach chose to tell him as loudly as possible. Feelings of hunge would just kill his mental agility and snacks are not proper food. The thought about food makes him remember his dad and his refusal to eat the healthy stuff Stiles always wanted him to eat. He got up and went to buy a healthy sandwich, a small portion of salad and returned to his “new” home. 

His research showed him one thing most clearly. He needed more insider information to find the guy he was looking for. Stiles had seen an ad for Lloyd's a bar+ restaurant owned by the Carlyles. He would try to get hired there as it held some importance for the family. At least that's what he had gathered from his research. He could use the money too. He decided to go the next day around lunch time. 

Thank god he still had his fake ID. Who knew that sneaking into the local gay club would prove to be really useful one day. According to the ID his name was Marvin Styles. God, his younger self could have chosen a better name but it would serve it's purpose. 

The place wasn't as busy as he had thought it would be, just a few people here and there. Apparently the bar+restaurant earned more money in the evening. The 'nice' black and white arrangements were probably to be blamed as well. The whole place didn't give him a very family friendly feeling. He didn't need to venture far into the place until he met the boss. 

Peter Hale. 

A smarmy guy. His smile was almost predatory when he looked at Stiles. “Well... Hello how can I help you? Have you gotten lost?” He paired this with a look as if he'd love to do some very inappropriate things to Stiles. It made Stiles feel sick to his stomach but there was no running away now. He had to make a good impression, even to someone like that.

“I'm looking for a job as a waiter. I saw your ad in the paper.” Peter scrutinized him. “You are in luck. We need staff for an event in the evening. If you help out that would be great. If you do well we'll hire you.” Peter had smiled at him like a wolf while explaining all the details of the event. Stiles felt the urge to shower. Quickly.

Before he left one of the other waiters gave him a uniform. Black dress pants, white button down shirt, a silver colored vest and a black bowtie made the Lloyd's waiter look complete. Stiles didn't feel especially good looking in the stuff. He already missed his hoodies and the plaid shirts. 

He returned to the hotel to sleep before he had to work but his nervousness made that very difficult. He tossed and turned for quite some time.

Stiles job at the bar was to provide all the tables with their drinks. The food wasn't his concern. He set out to fulfill his task dutifully but soon a few creepy people made their intentions towards him known. He thankfully avoided the worst possible outcome but his left buttock started to really hurt from all the pinching. He's not a toy, goddamnit. 

On his way back from one table to the counter he stumbled over his feet and the empty beer bottles on his tray fell down. 

Damn! It's his trial day. He can't afford to blunder like this.

One of the bottles had rolled a bit over the floor. Stiles tried to grab it but missed and it rolled even further away. It was stopped by a very expensive looking shoe. Stiles eyes crept up the dark suited leg over his torso, towards the man's face. The man had dark hair, stubble and two bewitching hazel colored eyes. Stiles mouth fell slightly open. What is happening to him?

Even though the guy wore a suit, Stiles could see that he had quite some muscles hidden underneath. His expression was very neutral at first but when he noticed that Stiles' and his eyes had locked, his face became a bit more serious although Stiles could swear there was a tentative smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You should look where you are going. You are not hired to throw around the bottles, newbie.” He picked the bottle up gracefully and gave it to Stiles with a smile. “Thanks, I'll try not to be as entertaining!” Stiles stood up. They were about the same height. The guy's eyebrows rose at the comment. Stiles could not deny his fascination with this man. The magic moment however dispersed when he got called to help at the counter again. When he turned to look at the mysterious guy he had already vanished into the crowd. 

It would have been a lie if Stiles had said that he hadn't thought of those eyes looking at him and that stubble rubbing all over his skin while pleasuring himself later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to talk to me about the story on my [tumblr](http://kimchisan.tumblr.com/).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is the new chapter! Who would've thought I'd write on this story again.

Stiles got into a routine. He worked day or night shifts at the bar and on off days he would go to the library. His research hadn't been as fruitful as he would have liked it to be. He could piece together why the Argents and Carlyles weren't on good terms though. Apparently the Argents interfered with Carlyle's drug business. A lot. The stuff he could pick up in the bar told him as much. Kate Argent had stopped Carlyle's access to the harbor and its various facilities, effectively reducing his business to a minimum.

But those were just the general outlines. Something specific must have happened to force Carlyle's hand and try to eradicate her. But no amount of careful probing his co-workers or pouring over newspaper articles brought him any closer to the truth. 

There was also the matter of finding the man with the tattoo. Stiles honestly didn't know how to manage that. He couldn't really ask about it without people getting suspicious. He talked to one of his co-workers under the guise of having a tattoo kink but to no avail. 

So it was entirely coincidental that the guy who tried to hit on him one night had a tattoo on his back. It had been a quiet evening until the guy and his 'friends' arrived at the bar. They were ordering the most expensive drinks and snacks they had on the menu. Stiles thought they were the average company hot shots who wanted to show off how much money they had. He took the order but apparently the guy wasn't finished because he then felt the need to add: “Aww. Your're such a cutie. Have a drink with us! It'll be fun!” 

The guy's body language couldn't have been any plainer. The way he looked like he wanted to undress him made Stiles shudder in disgust. He politely declined. Unfortunately he was stuck with serving them all night. The guy wouldn't give up though and tried to touch Stiles inappropriately several times. He made Stiles' skin crawl. When he brought another round of drinks the guy had loosened his tie and taken off his blazer. It was then that he saw the tattoo. It was too short a moment to see completely but the guy had some kind of black tattoo on his back.   
The guy asked him again: “Hey, come on. You were working all the time! Let's drink together. It's such a sweet night and I pay for the drinks!” Stiles took the chance even though it made him feel awful. 

He threw his arm around the guy's shoulders, pulling him close to his face and purred into his ear. “Well, you've been kinda persuasive...” He proceeded to take the beer bottle out of the guy's hand and put it suggestively to his lips. The guy looked like he almost came in his pants. His friends broke out in drunken cheer. The guy grabbed Stiles by the waist and pulled him into his lap, almost spilling the contents of the bottle. “Not so rough, big guy!” Stiles interjected. The guy tried to slobber Stiles with kisses. It wasn't easy for Stiles not to make a face at that. Jeez! Is that a hand on his ass? Stiles had to get the guy out of the bar if he wanted to look at the tattoo properly. “I don't really like drinking in bars...” he casually dropped. After a nasty kiss to Stiles' neck the guy said: “Well, then let's go somewhere you like.”

They ended up in the elevator of a hotel nearby. Stiles pretended to be into the guy's frequent gropings. He could feel the man's arousal through his pants, rubbing on his leg. Stiles wanted to puke as the guy shoved his tongue into his mouth. Enough was enough.  
He quickly tried to rid the man off his shirt and turned him around to look at his back. 

It was a tribal design. 

A fucking black circle with intertwining branch-like extensions. It was hideous and looked like it had been done at the beach. 

Stiles let go of the man as if he had been burned. He pressed the button to the next floor, stepped out and before the guy even registered what had happened the doors closed again and Stiles went towards the staircase, wiping his mouth and feeling like shit.

 

\- - - - - - - - - 

Peter had a great day. No trouble at the restaurant, no complains from customers. It had been a nice break between all the trouble coming from the Argents. After closing he and Kelly, one of the waitresses, went back to Peter's Apartment. They had some kind of arrangement. Sex but no feelings involved. At least that's what Peter told himself. He may look like he wants in everyone's pants but he hasn't really done that for quite sometime. They seem to drift towards each other more and more while walking down the street. They pass other nightclubs and restaurants.

She likes him, he knows. Probably only agreed to the arrangement because it's a way of having him. Maybe it's time for him to let go of his past as a married man and settle down. Who knows what the future might bring.

It was a nice warm night. The air smelled like rain. Peter didn't live too far from Lloyd's so they took the short cut through the park. It was fine, Peter was armed.

After a few minutes Peter noticed that someone was following them. They didn't do a good job at hiding their presence but before he could do something they opened fire at him. He pushed Kelly into a bush and told her to lay low. He ran, away to distract them and they followed. He then hid behind a tree and waited for them to come. He got one in the leg, the other was smarter and tried to circle around him just to be shot in the front by Peter. 

And it had been such a nice day, Peter thought. He returned to get Kelly. She was unharmed, only her clothes locked a bit ruffled. She cried and Peter lit a cigarette. So no sex then.

\- - - - - - 

The next day Peter meets Derek and Carlyle to talk about what has happened. “I don't think we can let this go on for much longer. We need to strike against them and show them their place or we'll regret it!” he said. “Well, I agree with you Peter.” Carlyle looked at Derek. “And I believe someone in this room still needs to do their part.” Derek stared back at the man. “I'll do it.” he said coldly. “But who should be his target?” Peter intercedes. “Obviously we weren't lucky with Kate Argent so why don't we send her a message she understands first? Kill her brother and at a later time herself? As far as I know the brother's responsible for a lot of their transactions. So why don't we take him out?” Derek nodded in understanding and left the room.   
Peter wanted to do the same. “Peter?” He turned to Carlyle. “Can we trust your nephew?” Peter looked at him. “Yes!”

When Peter went outside he saw Derek standing at the elevators. He caught up with him. “Derek!” Derek raised his eyebrow at his uncle. What did he want now? “Don't screw up kid! We don't stand nearly as strong in the organization than we used to.” Derek looked annoyed but understood. This wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

\- - - - - - - - - - -

It was easy to find out Christopher Argent's schedule. His accountant-like work philosophy meant he spent a lot of time at the Argent Tower. A few dinners with the receptionist told him all, but to get inside Derek needed to get creative. He couldn't just waltz in there without being disguised. 

Even though the building was called Argent Tower only a few floors actually belonged to the Argents. There are two elevators in the main hall. One was guarded and went to the Argent's floors. The one right beside it was going the other office floors. 

Derek disguised himself as a pizza delivery man and hid his gun in the pizza box. The Argent's blatant disregard for their own safety should be their undoing, he thought. No metal detectors? Nowadays? It's like they're inviting people to kill them. He headed into the unguarded elevator. Shortly after he went in, Chris Argent stepped into the building. He headed for the guarded elevator, greeted the guards and went in. 

Derek meanwhile took his gun out of the box, attached the silencer and climbed up, through the service hatch, to get on top of the elevator. The elevator stopped on the floor where he had pressed the button. He climbed to the metal bars that keep the two elevators apart and waited for the other elevator to come up. 

Chris Argent hadn't had one of his best days. He got into a serious fight with his sister Kate. Why wouldn't she listen to him? All her violent escapades made business harder than it should have been. Maybe he should just ask for a few vacation days. He hadn't seen his wife and daughter all that much in the last few weeks. 

There was a thump on the elevator. Chris was perplexed. Is the damn thing going to fall down now? There was a strange noise coming from above and when he looked up all he saw was a hand with a gun. His eyes widened. Before he could say anything, the bullet went through his head and his body slumped to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to talk to me about the story on my [tumblr](http://kimchisan.tumblr.com/).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few things different about this story now. 
> 
> Mainly, I took away the Major Character Death tag. 
> 
> It didn't feel right with me anymore. But even if no main character dies the story will play out the way I wanted it. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S: I will never make promises regarding the schedule again. I think I'll finish this soon but who knows. I really want to write other stories too. We'll see.

 

Kate Argent sat quietly in her office, her back turned towards the door. The sun had long gone down and the only light in the room came from a small desk lamp.  
A tumbler of whiskey heavy in one hand and a half full bottle in the other, she stared furiously out of the window.

Suddenly she swerved her desk chair around, jumped up, took a gulp of whiskey and threw the glass at the opposite wall. The sound of breaking glass brought one of her henchmen to the door. He looked anxiously at her.

“End it! Just fucking end it!” she yelled at him and banged her fist on the desk. The guy nodded and left. Kate still stood there heavily breathing. They would regret it. She would make sure of that. No one lays a hand on her empire like that. No one!

 

 - - - - - - - -

 

 Stiles' days at work fell into a pattern. He checked out the people frequenting the bar without arousing suspicion and in his free time he went to the library. He knew a lot about the dealings of the Carlyle group by now but still had no luck in finding the man with the tattoo. When he got “home” to his room he just lied on his bed until he fell into a dreamless slumber. The first signs of exhaustion being visible on his face.

 

One Saturday, Stiles was off work, he went to a gun shop. His whole lifestyle had become more dangerous and the things he wanted to do definitely warranted buying a gun. It would provide him with a certain security when dealing with the Carlyle group. Those people own guns too.

Stiles would've loved to take his father's gun, but a return trip to their house would've been counterproductive and besides his father's colleagues probably had come to collect it while Stiles was away anyway.

 The gun shop was in a seedier part of town, dark back alleys that made Stiles nervous walking through them surrounded the vicinity. The shop owner looked him up and down when he asked what he could do for him. “I need a handgun.”

“Are you even old enough?” Stiles showed him his fake ID and the man proceeded to show him the weapons that were on display.

Stiles bought one that reminded him of the one his dad used. After buying the gun and bullets, Stiles went out of the shop looking for a secluded area. He didn’t need to look for long. He found a small courtyard with no one around and proceeded to take out the gun. He loaded it and started to practice shooting. His face was as hard as stone and cold as ice while doing it. His eyes were honing in on one imagined target after the other.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Two weeks after that, Stiles was on his way home, feeling tired after work when he saw Scott on the other side of a big crossing.  
It looked like he was trying to get a taxi. Oh Scotty, Stiles thought. What had become of him? He couldn't face Scott. Not like this.  
Scott would want to talk and get him to stop. Stiles couldn't do that. If he knew anything it was that he couldn’t stop.

 

While looking at Scott their eyes locked for an instant. Stiles could see the recognition slowly spreading in Scott's face.

He looked like he wanted to cross the street now. Stiles shook his head at Scott and averted his eyes.  
He turned his back on Scott and went into the next street to avoid his friend.

 

When Stiles returned to his room and closed the door he leaned on it and sighed. He couldn't live on like this, could he? He walked to his bed and opened the drawer of the nightstand and took out two photographs.  
One of his dad and one showing him and his mother. He stroked the picture of his mom. It was worn out and soft around the edges.  
They were having a picnic and he sat in his mother's lap. She beamed so brightly at the camera. She always smiled like that even in the end.

 

A small smile tugged at Stiles' mouth and he looked at the picture of his father. He swallowed. It was the same picture they used for the funeral. He still felt his father's body in his arms, remembers cradling him. His father's eyes when he looked at him. The blood on the floor of the dirty gas station...

 

Stiles curled up on the bed and hugged the picture to his chest. He could do it. He would find the bastard who took everything from him and end him. What did it matter what would happen to him after he's done. He couldn't protect his dad! He brought him to that place! Stiles would never rest until he found out who did it.

 

Resolved, Stiles fell asleep on the bed.

 

\- - - - - - -

 

After a month of living and working in this place, Stiles finally had enough money to pay Deaton for his tattoo. He decided to visit the man as soon as he got time. When he arrived at the house he really felt like he was in another world. Peaceful and secure not at all like Stiles' current living quarters.

 

When Elaine opened the door, at first it seemed like she didn't recognize him but then: “Oh! It's you. Come in. I'll tell my uncle you're here.” Stiles waited in the hall while she went. A few minutes later she called him. “He's ready. Come in.” Deaton sat on his bed when Stiles entered the small room.  
“Stiles. What brings you to me this time? Please, sit down.” Before sitting, Stiles gave him an envelope with the money. “Here I figured I should give you this. For the tattoo and everything.”

 

Deaton took it and put it beside himself on the bed. “Thank you.” “Well...” Stiles wanted to get up. “Have I told you about the story connecting your spiral with the triskelion?” “Story? No I don't think so. You just told me about the meaning of them separately. The Birth, Life and Death thing.”

“Bear in mind that it's a pretty old story, more like a myth.” After hearing that Stiles looked even more attentive.

“Once when the earth was young there was a wandering wolf pack haunting the forests. It was led by a strong and wise Alpha wolf. The Alpha had chosen a favorite among his beloved Betas. Whenever the Alpha made a decision the loyal Beta supported him. The pure devotion the Beta possessed for the Alpha was not of this world and the gods decided to give them a present. Each one got a necklace with a silver triskelion. The wolves honored their presents and wore them day and night.

 

One day a hunter, he was the first of his kind, happened on the Alpha alone. He killed the majestic beast and set the body on fire. When the pack found the charred remains of their Alpha great misery fell upon them. The loyal Beta was so devastated that he vowed to revenge his Alpha. When the pack got ready to bury the Alpha, the Beta found the triskelion necklace on the ground.

It had blackened and when he tried to take it it fell into three pieces. Three spirals and like a spiral the Beta would pursue the hunter around the earth. When he finally found him, the hunter had aged tremendously and the fight was short. But when the moment arrived to kill, the Beta looked at the shaking and crying hunter and felt sorry for the man. He let him live.”

 

“What? Why did he do that? That's stupid!” Stiles looked furiously at Deaton.

 

“Because the Beta hadn't realized until that exact moment how much he had sullied the memory of his Alpha while pursuing the hunter. He took the death of his Alpha too personal and his lust for revenge made him forget to protect the Alpha's legacy instead. He abandoned the pack instead of looking after them.  
He forgot his duty towards his Alpha and had led a life of anger and hatred, which is not what his Alpha had wanted for him”

Stiles jumped up from the bed. “You can keep your shitty advice stories! I know what I'm doing!” Without saying another word Stiles stormed out of the house.


	6. Chapter 6

Lloyd’s bar was filled like always around nighttime. The staff and patrons going around their business like usual. Nothing was out of order. Or so it seemed.

 

The music and noise of the bar hid what was happening in the men's restroom at the back. Derek stood silently at the door keeping watch and smoked a cigarette.  
Meanwhile Peter beat a guy within an inch of his life. At first the guy had put up a good fight but when Peter rammed his face into one of the mirrors the fight turned messy quickly. There was blood splatter everywhere.

 

“Come on, Derek! Join me! The bastard deserves it!” Peter shouted. Derek didn't answer him. What a mess!  
His uncle just had his huge ego and always got what he wanted but when Kelly had broken up with him because of the attack in the park? Let’s just say things went out of hand at an alarming rate. Peter had been angry at first but kept himself under control until he had seen Kelly with a new boyfriend. The man, who was currently on the restroom floor getting kicked into the stomach.

 

Derek continued to smoke in silence. When he had enough of Peter’s antics he threw away the cigarette and went back to the bar. There was a quiet whimper accompanying him while the door fell shut.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Derek wandered through the bar, keeping a watchful eye over patrons and staff until he saw him. The pale young man with moles and brown eyes to die for. Apparently he worked at the bar today, he talking to the guests and Derek felt suddenly compelled to take a seat at the bar.

 

Stiles had recognized the handsome stranger immediately. No wonder, the guy starred in a lot of his wet dreams. A slight flush crept onto his cheeks. He tracked the guy’s movements until “handsome” sat down at the bar.

 

“What can I do for you, handsome?” Stiles smiled and bit his lip. “Handsome” pinned him down with his eyes and said: “A Scotch & Soda, please.”  
“Alright! Give me a minute!” Stiles smiled and proceeded to take out the required bottles and made the requested drink. Derek observed quietly how the young man’s long fingers flew over the bottle caps and produced the drink he wanted. “Here you are!” Stiles put the drink in front of Derek. When Derek took a sip of the beverage and closed his eyes in bliss, Stiles knew he had done well.

 

This drink always reminded Derek of his father. Although the man hadn’t drunk much in his life Scotch & Soda had always been a favorite of his father’s. The world had been so different before the fire…

 

Stiles shamelessly looked at the stranger, following the lines of his face. But the dark brows drew together and the man’s mouth thinned. Something was wrong, Stiles thought and without stopping to think he asked to the man: “You know we’ve met before right?”

  
The guy blinked and looked at him somewhat with surprise. “Yes, I remember you. You’re the one who hunted after a bottle on the ground” Stiles grinned.  
“Yep, that’s me. I’m Stiles by the way.” He held his hand out. “Derek.” They shook hands. What soft hands Stiles had, Derek thought. A warm feeling surrounding him.

 

It looked like Stiles had wanted to talk some more but unfortunately he was called by the other guests. He looked disappointedly at Derek and went to get the orders of drinks and small snacks the people yelled at him. When Stiles had done all the stuff required of him Derek was gone. “Well, that’s just awesome…” mumbled Stiles.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

 

Peter nursed his hand. He was sitting at a corner table with a few lackeys. Despite being a quite paranoid man he sat with his back towards the room, looking at the wall. He had told his goons to throw out the sad sack of a guy he had left in the restroom earlier. When Kelly had noticed what had happened she had thrown a fit and quit. Peter’s mood became even shittier as the night went on.

 

Everything sucked, until he saw someone that caught his eye. It was this young guy he had employed some time ago. Marvin Styles or something. He followed him with his eyes while Marvin was flitting from table to table to get the orders and bring drinks and food.

 

The closer Stiles came to the table with Peter Hale, the more he felt uncomfortable in his skin. The man had leered at him for some time now and Stiles knew about his connections with the Carlyles. Remembering the perverted behavior of the guy when he hired Stiles made Stiles sick to the stomach. He hadn’t even talked to the guy yet and felt like this wasn’t going to end well.

 

“Marvin?” Peter made eye contact with him. He had a smarmy smile on while asking. “Yes, sir?” Stiles tried to be polite and unresponsive to any innuendos the guy made. Peter smiled even more widely now. Like he knew how Stiles felt.  
“Would you bring my friends and me a round of beer and some peanuts?” “Of course, sir.” Stiles had looked at the floor while answering. He quickly went to get the stuff. He couldn’t leave his boss waiting. No matter how much he disliked him.

 

When Stiles returned to the table. He noticed something. Firstly, Peter had taken off his jacket while Stiles was away. He wore a white wifebeater now. Secondly, there was a familiar black shape curling around underneath the wifebeater, directly between Peter’s shoulder blades.

 

A black triskelion.

 

Stiles momentarily lost his ability to breathe. The world stood still for a second. This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. His body trembled when he forced air back into his lungs. Thank god he hadn’t let the tray fall down. There was no need to make people notice him now. That would’ve been disastrous.

 

Stiles didn’t know what to do. He had to go to this… this murderer. He felt his stomach cramp at the thought. He couldn’t revenge his father here in the bar that much he knew. Stiles swallowed. But he still had the tray to deal with. He clenched his fingers painfully around the tray. His opportunity would come.

 

Peter’s eyes lit up when Stiles came to bring the beer. He drank in his movements. Such white pale skin. How much it would bruise when Peter got at it. He shivered in delight at the thought. “Thank you, Marvin! What do you think? Don’t you want to sit with us?” Peter blatantly felt up Stiles’ butt while asking. It was the most reviling thing Stiles had ever felt in his life.

 

“I’m sorry sir.” Stiles answered with a fake smile. “I still need to work at the bar. They’re waiting.” Stiles turned to go but Peter stopped him and grabbed his hand.  
“Aw! Come on! Let’s have some fun!” Stiles looked away from Peter for a moment. This could be a chance.

  
For dad he thought when he turned around and straddled Peter’s hips. It’s not like he didn’t know what Peter wanted. The lackeys broke out in cheer. Stiles could feel Peter’s breath on him. He also could feel the man harden in his pants. “Well, then… let’s have some fun!” he whispered into Peter’s ear.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

 

It didn’t take long to make Peter so horny so that they had to leave. Stiles got his messenger back from the break room and went with Peter through the back of the building. They walked through the quiet alleys. Peter couldn’t leave his fingers from him. Always stopping them and touching him underneath his shirt and trying to get at his pants.

  
When they had walked a distance and were completely alone Stiles made Peter turn his back towards him and asking Peter to take off the wifebeater. While Peter pulled of the shirt he asked Stiles: “Which way do you like it? I bet you haven’t been fucked properly in a while!”

  
Stiles stepped closer to Peter’s back. “You can have me anyway you like me.” While saying this he took his gun out of the bag and put it between Peter’s shoulders. The man stopped immediately struggling out of the wifebeater. A strange silence enveloped the two.

 

“Who are you?!!” spit Peter out. “Who sent you little bastard??” He began to move. Stiles swallowed. “My name is Stiles Stilinski and you killed my father! He was innocent! And you just shot him!!!” Stiles struggled with his feelings. A grave mistake.

Peter rounded on him and punched him in the face. Stiles could feel the blood shooting out of his nose. He lost the gun while falling. It skittered over the floor. He tried to get up and attack Peter but to no avail. Peter was physically over powering him in seconds. You are so stupid Stiles, Stiles thought. He got thrown at the next wall and lied on the ground. Peter found a loose brick lying around and tried to smash his head in.

 

If Derek hadn’t appeared out of nowhere and had taken hold of Peter’s arms, Stiles would’ve been a goner. “Peter! Calm down! It’s alright! I’ll take care of it!” he practically yelled into Peter’s ear. But Peter was enraged. Nothing had went the way he wanted it that day. He kicked Derek in the shins, turned around and kicked him in the gut. Derek stumbled to the ground.

  
Peter grabbed the gun that had been on the ground and tried to shoot Stiles in the head. Derek jumped up and took hold of the hand with the gun. He pulled it away from Stiles face. Stiles is bleeding a lot and his face had paled.

  
“Peter, leave it!” Derek shouted. His uncle let out a loud breath and looked straight at Stiles when he told him that this wasn’t over. He then stormed off back to the bar presumably.

 

Stiles was nearly fainting and Derek asked him patiently about his place. Repeating the question when Stiles seemed like he didn’t hear. “Where do you live?” “Cameron’s Hotel…” Stiles answered quietly. Derek took Stiles back to the hotel in his black Camaro. Whenever he had to stop at a traffic light he looked at Stiles.

The young man was leaning at the cold window, dozing. The blood from his nose had stopped. There were abrasions on his knuckles and Derek betted that he would have bruises in other places later. The drive was otherwise silent and when they arrived at the hotel Stiles had fallen asleep.

 

Derek carried Stiles to his room and laid him down on his bed. When he was laid down Stiles woke and blinked tiredly at Derek. “You were there helping me…why” Derek just nodded without answering and went to the bathroom to get a wet towel. He cleaned Stiles’ face and hands carefully and Stiles let him.

  
Stiles was about to ask him how he’d known where he had been when Derek suddenly asked: “Please follow my finger with your eyes!” What a strange request Stiles thought while following Derek’s finger with his eyes. Derek looked very serious. But it seemed to be alright because Derek looked satisfied after repeating this finger thing and Stiles began to feel sleepy again.

 

Derek then got up from the bed, petted Stiles’ head and put Stiles’ gun on the dresser before leaving the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. I can't really excuse myself anymore. I don't know if people are still following this story. 
> 
> I can't promise any schedules but I think you know that already.
> 
> I only know that I want to finish this story. I want to write other stuff but I feel like I can't do that if I haven't finished this one.
> 
> So here is the new chapter:

When Derek got the call from Carlyle’s office the next day he knew it wasn’t going to be a good day.  
The secretary on the phone made clear it was expected of him to come immediately. Derek groaned and put his clothes on quickly. He took his brand new car, a Camaro. He arrived about 30 minutes after he had gotten the call. 

 

He met Peter while waiting in front of the elevators. The only thing hinting at Peter being in a fight the night before was a small cut in his lip. His uncle didn’t say a word to him when they boarded the elevator.

 

The silence continued. Derek didn’t feel very well. Whenever his uncle was silent like this something would come back to bite Derek in the ass. Peter looked straight at the doors and didn’t say anything. When they got to the right floor, they headed straight for Carlyle’s office. The secretary tried to insist that she needed to announce them first. Peter was not to be deterred and just went through the door, not even knocking in the process.

 

Carlyle was sitting at his desk as usual. “Peter. Derek. Take a seat.” He gestured towards the chair in front of his desk not even minding their sudden intrusion. “Thanks for coming so quickly. Peter has told me about that kid threatening him yesterday. My people found out who he is.”  
He looked at Derek. “You remember when you tried to kill that Argent bitch?” Derek hadn’t been looking at him until then. His eyes widened in surprise. “Apparently he’s the son of that sheriff you offed!” He threw a print of an article concerning the Sheriff’s funeral in front of them. Derek leaned forward and took a look at it. Next to the headline was a picture of people leaving a cemetery. Stiles was right in front of all of them. Derek’s heart clenched painfully. He had his suspicions yesterday but now that they seemed to be true he felt distraught. He had regretted killing the innocent sheriff before but now it pained him even more. Now that he knew what he had made out of the boy. 

 

Carlyle ran his sweaty fingers through his hair and turned to Peter. “This is a fucking mess Peter! Deal with this shit. That’s what I fucking pay you for. I don’t want some kid like that sniffing around here. We already have enough stuff on our hands with the Argents. That little shit probably has been looking into us. He might even work for them or the cops.” He gestured wildly at them.

 

Peter looked sharply at Derek and back at Carlyle. “He’ll deal with it.” Pointing at Derek. “It’s not going to be a problem. It looks like the kid trusts my dear nephew already.” Derek looked up at that comment. Peter glared at him. Carlyle just nodded and sent them on their way.

 

Outside, well out of sight of the secretary, Derek got grabbed by his uncle and pressed at the next wall.  
“Listen…, nephew!” he hissed. “If you have doubts about this I’ll gladly take over. I still have a score to settle with that little bastard.” He smiled. “I’ll make him scream for his daddy.”

Derek grabbed his uncle’s arm. “This won’t be necessary! I can handle it.” Derek looked deep into his uncle’s eyes. “I made him into what he is now. He’s my responsibility. I’ll deal with him.” Peter let go off Derek. “I sure hope you can keep that promise.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

 

The same evening Derek sneaked into Stiles’ hotel. The lock to Stiles’ room was easily picked. Derek could not hear anything coming from the room and slowly opened the door. Then he heard it. The sound of water. Stiles was in the shower. A faint light shone from the bathroom into the otherwise dark room. 

 

Derek took out his gun. The silencer put in place. 

 

He peeked into the bathroom through the open door and looked at the shower. The shower curtain was only half drawn and gave him a perfect view. Stiles was shampooing his hair and humming a tune. Completely oblivious to the fact that Derek was there.

 

Derek couldn’t resist and got distracted. He let his eyes roam over the beautiful wet body that he could glimpse at through the gap between the curtain and the wall. Even though he still stood a few feet away outside of the bathroom he could see the details clear as day. Apparently Stiles didn’t just have moles in his face. No, his whole back was mottled with them. And when Stiles turned and went underneath the spray, Derek’s heart almost stopped. He hadn’t expected the sudden movement. It almost shook him out of his trance but then his eyes got caught on a detail. 

 

Stiles had a tattoo. 

 

But not just any run of a mill tattoo. It was a black triskelion right above his heart and a delicate red spiral was unfolding itself underneath it. Derek stared at the tattoo and let the gun sink down slowly. Stiles still didn’t know of his presence and had turned his back towards the door again.

 

What the hell, Derek thought. He felt a chill crawling at his back. 

 

Suddenly there was a loud knocking at the door. It startled Stiles. He peered out of the shower and quickly grabbed a towel to fold it around his hips. The knocking became more urgent and therefore louder. Stiles went to the door and opened it. 

 

A man stood in the hall before him. “Stiles Stilinski?” “Yeah? What is it?” “I’m a detective with the local police. My name is Aaron Johnson. He showed his badge to Stiles and got invited inside. “What can I do for you, detective?” The man had taken a look at the room and sat down in the armchair near the bathroom door. He took a folded piece paper out of his pocket, unfolded it and showed it to Stiles. It was one of his drawings from the mental hospital. A paper littered with all kinds of triskelion shapes. 

 

Stiles raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the paper. “What do you want to tell me with this exactly?” “Mr. Stilinski we both know that you are the painter of this drawing…” “So what? That’s not a crime.” The detective then gestured at his chest. “Nice tattoo you got there. Looks like the one you drew.” Stiles let out an annoyed breath, slumping his shoulders. “What do you want from me? Do you want to arrest me? If yes, on what charges? Drawing mysterious shapes? Having a tattoo?” 

 

The detective smirked and shook his head. “Nothing of the sort but how about… Affiliation with known criminals, possession of an unlicensed firearm or, and this one is even better, conspiracy to commit murder? Has a nice ring to it doesn’t it?” Stiles paled and he stared at the man in shock. How did this man know?  
The detective raised his hands in a placating gesture. “But please don’t be alarmed. I do not actually intend to arrest you. I could do it but that’s not really what I’m here for. I don’t even think what you want to do is wrong per se. Your dad and you got caught up between the Carlyles and Argents fighting for dominance.” Stiles looked at him curiously and relaxed.. 

 

“You work for one of Carlyle’s most important men. Peter Hale.” The detective continued. “You came up close and personal with these guys! Tell me what you know! Give me information to book these guys!” The detective had gotten up from the chair and stepped closer to Stiles, clearly agitated.

 

“I don’t know more than you already do.” Stiles answered not even acknowledging the detectives behavior. “It’s not like I haven’t tried to find out more but they are very secretive and to be honest I don’t really care what they do to each other.” Johnson didn’t look happy with that revelation. “You’re sure?” he asked. “You have no information for me? At all?” “Yes!” Stiles started to look annoyed. 

 

Johnson let out a frustrated breath and seemed to consider things. “Well then…here.” He reached into his jacket pocket and gave Stiles his card. “Call me if you notice anything, okay?” Stiles nodded. Johnson shivered. “Wow, it’s freezing in here” The window was open. The white curtains slowly moving with the incoming air. Stiles looked at the window with furrowed brows. “You shouldn’t stand around in a towel for too long with an open window, you know?” The detective said and started to walk towards the door. But before he opened it he turned around and looked at Stiles.

 

“The triskelion shape really has nothing to do with your father’s murder, right? I remember this being a gang tattoo…” “Oh, nothing at all! It just was in my head when I was in the mental hospital.” Johnson leaves. Outside in the hall the detective looked at the closed door, shook his head and said silently to himself: “Liar.”

 

Stiles went to his bedside table and took his gun out of the drawer. He was sure that he had closed the window before he went into the bathroom. He walked slowly up to the window. He took a look outside. There was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen.

 

When he turned around there was Derek. Stiles jumped and held his gun towards him. His heartbeat raced. When he recognized the guy, Derek, from the bar he let the hand holding the gun slide down to his side. 

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He grabbed his towel tighter around himself. No response. “Can’t you knock?” Stiles rolled his eyes and stepped around Derek. “I’m busy! Get out!” Stiles grabbed his freshly washed clothes and walked towards the bathroom. “When I get out again you are gone or I will call the police!” He stomped inside and slammed the door. 

 

After a few minutes he opened the door and groaned in frustration. “Didn’t you hear what I said?” Derek didn’t acknowledge him. “Hey, what are you doing?” Derek had taken one of the pictures on the bedside table and sat on the bed. Stiles stormed towards him and tried to take the picture back. Derek evaded him a few times until Stiles gave up and sat down next to him on the bed. Derek was holding the picture of Stiles’ mother. 

 

“Who is she?” The sudden question startled Stiles. “That’s my mom. She died when I was in elementary school.” Derek gave Stiles the photo. “We always went to the park when I was smaller and had picnics.” Stiles touched the picture gently. “When I got older my whole family went on a lot of hiking trips in the Beacon Hills preserve. So many trees as far as the eyes could reach. When my mom died we stopped doing these trips.” He took the picture of his dad from the table. “My dad died a while back.” He confessed quietly. 

 

Derek stilled next to him. “You haven’t really mourned for him yet have you?” Derek asked silently. Stiles stared at him. “I..I..” “You don’t want to appear as weak, right?” Stiles eyes widened. “When you find your justice you’ll finally be able to mourn. I’m sure.” “What? How do you…? How do you know about that? What makes you so sure this is going to happen?” Derek got up from the bed. “I just know, Stiles.” Stiles gasped and jumped off the bed. “I know, you know what this is about!” Derek stilled and turned around. “I know that you’re one of them! I will find the guy who did it.” Stiles looked straight at Derek. “I’ll find your friend, Peter.” Derek looked at him and said:

 

“He’s not my friend. He’s my uncle.”

 

And left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter. I'm not a native English speaker and if you see something wrong please don't hesitate to tell me. I'm still learning and appreciate it. Especially if you see something wrong with the sequence of events. I don't have a beta reader who could do that. I tried to look for mistakes but I can only get so far. (Who would want to beta for someone so erratic...) 
> 
> Again thank you for reading. I'll will try to post soon but I can't promise you. Forgive me. v_v

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to talk to me about the story on my [tumblr](http://kimchisan.tumblr.com/).


End file.
